Doves and Hawkes
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: Bill Hawkes decides to visit Clive Dove in prison, when the corrupt politician realises that his high position in society is not as stable as he once thought. One shot. Rated T for language.


**AN: I've had this idea for a while now. I thought, now that I have some free time, I better get it written.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Professor Layton, all credit for characters and plot goes to Level 5, this is simply fan work.**

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Doves and Hawkes

"Dove!" A large guard shouted, as he clunked open Clive's cell door. "It's visitation."

Clive looked up from his book, for he was trying to keep himself busy whilst serving his time, and frowned. Visitation? No one came to visit him. In fact, it was completely impossible for anyone to do so. For in order to visit a prisoner, especially a high security prisoner such as Clive, one had to be approved by the prison, and the prison had approved no such visitors for Clive. The reason for this, was because everyone Clive knew had been involved in Future London, and was now either serving time themselves, or was banned from communicating with Clive since they were considered to be criminal partners.

The only person who had been allowed to visit Clive was Professor Layton, however Clive had turned down this offer when he received a letter from the archaeologist requesting that he put his name down on his visitation list. Instead, Clive had written a letter back thanking the Professor for his consideration and everything else, but clearly stating that he wanted to move on and no longer dwell on the past and that contact with the Professor would prevent Clive from doing that.

So, when the guard said that Clive had visitation, Clive was very confused indeed.

"Sorry?" Clive said, jumping down from his top bunk. He actually had a fear of heights and would have much preferred the bottom bunk, but he dared not ask his cell mate, a frightening, muscular man who always scowled and growled. "I don't have visitors. I never do."

"Well, you do today," the guard scoffed and put cuffs around Clive's wrists.

"Are you sure? There must be some mistake," Clive said.

"Did you just accuse me of making a mistake?" The guard snarled, standing with his broard shoulders tensed and upright, intimidating the much smaller and, because of the lack of nutritional value in the prison's meals, scrawnier man.

"No, sir, I simply-" Clive began.

"No, sir, I simply-" the guard mocked, putting on a high-pitched voice.

Clive certainly was a spectacle to the guards and many of the prisoners, too. The prison was full of loud, aggressive men, who glared, spat, roared and threatened. They would be violent towards inmates and guards and had big muscular arms and gleaming eyes. Clive, on the other hand, was an average height and currently underweight inmate, who kept his head down, read books and very rarely said a word to anyone, and when he did, such as just then to the guard, he did so respectfully. Yet, of course, Clive was a criminal. In fact, he was by far the most dangerous criminal in the whole of the prison, not that any of the other inmates knew this, of course. And so, Clive was not respected by the guards in return. He knew that and he didn't expect to be, but he knew his place.

Clive kept quiet and was lead through the corridor of cells and then through a door, which the guard had to unlock to get out of, and then lock again when they went through the doorway. The guard lead Clive up a metal staircase, with no more words. Clive listened to his footsteps against the metal stairs, hearing the steps rattle upon each other after every step. The chains of his handcuffs clinked together. The sounds, rather rhythmic as the guard and Clive walked at a monotonous pace, reminded Clive of music. He had been incarcerated for four months and had a lifetime left to serve. He doubted he would hear a sound like music again.

Upon reaching the top of the staircase, Clive spotted several signs at the top, painted on with black paint. Left arrows were drawn next to the words "Visitation Centre" and "Recreational Grounds". Right arrows were drawn next to "Warden's Office". Clive was shocked for the guard to take him right, dragging him by the chain of his cuffs.

"But, sir, visitation is-"

"I know where visitation is, Dove. Shut it, alright," the guard demanded, continuing to pull Clive down the right corridor, before stopping outside a door, which Clive assumed was the warden's office.

The guard opened the door.

"Clive Dove, sir," the guard nodding to the person- the warden?- inside, before yanking Clive over to him and then pushing him into the office.

The door closed behind him. Clive turned around to see... Someone he had most definitely not been expecting to ever see again.

"I'm assuming you've not suffered a terrible demotion and are now working in correctional facilities, Mr Hawkes?" Clive quipped, staring at the Prime Minister of Britain.

"Goodness, no, Mr Dove," Bill Hawkes, who sat there, at the Warden's desk. Both his hands rested on the table, clenched together to make one fist. "However, I suppose you're more or less on the right lines, in a way."

Clive stared at the man who had ruined his life. He was just as smug and as unpleasant as he always had been. Clive Dove had always been able to see him for who he really was. A corrupt politician. When Clive did a report on him, he'd felt sick every time he had to type his name. To say it, just now, "Mr Hawkes"... His stomach had twisted. A man of carelessness and an addiction to power and he had the best seat in the country. Clive knew he was not a good man, he had accepted this. However, he knew that he was a better man than the one sat in front of him.

Bill Hawkes took people's life's for financial and personal gain. Clive had too, taken people's life's, but he had done so out of revenge and justice. Bill Hawkes didn't think of himself as a good man or a bad man, but was inherinantly evil through and through, and had no conscience to judge himself on it. Clive was a bad man and he admitted it the day he pled guilty in court.

"Please, take a seat," Hawkes said, nodding to seat on the other side of the desk.

Without a word in response, Clive did so. His cuffed hands, meant that he had to drag the chair out from under the desk with his feet, and then pull it closer to the table- not that he wanted to be anywhere near that man- with his feet again. He kept eye contact with the politician as he did so. He would never submit to such a man who was the reason behing his weak life.

"Why are you here?" Clive asked.

"Why, you're a smart man, I assumed you'd have figured that about by now," Hawkes responded. "Do you not get newspapers in prison?"

"Of course we don't," Clive replied, wanting to laugh at the man's ignorance, before realising that then, he would be laughing at his own lack of freedom.

"Oh. In which case, I better explain before we get to down to business," Hawkes replied.

"I have no business to do with _you,"_ Clive responded. "Now, why are you here?"

"I am here to ask for a favour from you, Clive," the politician requested. "Before you say you have no reason to do such a thing, let me tell what I can provide in thanks."

"That wouldn't be what I would ask, actually. I'm much more curious to know why you'd ask me for help from me, of all people. You are aware that I wanted you to die, yes?"

"And yet, here I am," Bill Hawkes responded. "You had me in your grasp, yet you didn't kill me."

Clive did not respond. He did not glare or snarl, unlike whatever any of the other men in the prison would have done, had they be in Clive's position. His face was blank and expressionless.

"Anyhow," Bill went on, seeing that Clive was reluctant to respond. "I need your help, which, yes, I admit is not something I ever thought I would say. But, needs are needs, I suppose. So, as you are unaware of current political events, I better fill you in. After recent events and damage to London caused by you, many statements have come forward from people such as Mr Dimitri Allen and a Mr Hershel Layton."

"That's _Professor_ Hershel Layton, I think you will find, Mr Hawkes," Clive corrected. His respect for the Professor would never go away.

"Statements from these individuals," Hawkes went on, not responding to Clive's comment. "Suggest that I am unfit for the position of Prime Minister. They suggest that I am corrupt. They suggest that I am... A criminal."

"Agreed," Clive said, slowly rolling the word of his mouth. His expressionless face was beginning to fade, being overcome by a stare of passionate hatred.

"In three days, there will be a hearing, where I will be tried for manslaughter over the death of six individuals, including your parents," Hawkes explained, his own expression filled with its own kind of spite. "You will be asked to testify what you know about the 28th of January 1957 explosion at the Polydimensional Insititute for Physics and my involvement in it. If you say you know nothing about such a thing and do not speak of your knowledge, then I will grant you your freedom, Mr Dove."

"My freedom, you say?" Clive repeated. "Why would I want such a thing?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Hawkes asked.

"Quite simply because if I had the choice, I would rather both of us rot in a cage than both of us walk free," Clive replied. "Besides, I am on the side of justice. I will not lie for anyone in a court of law. Not for myself and especially not for you."

"Are you telling me, Mr Dove," Hawkes began. "That you would rather live a long and slow, dull life, being treated like scum, neglected the right to leave a stone building, than to build a better life for yourself. I can give you a whole new identity, you know, Mr Dove. Parker, wasn't it. Your name before you were adopted. Clive Parker. And your middle name... Oliver, isn't it? Oliver Parker, that could be your new name. Your new life. You could be a journalist again. Don't try and fool me boy, I know you loved that job."

"Oliver Parker was my Father's name. Oliver Parker is the name of a man who is dead because of you," Clive stood up. "Do you know all the names of the people who are dead because of you. It's only six."

"No, I can't say I do."

"Oliver Parker. Rebecca Parker. Claire Foley. Robert Jackson. Elid Pinter. Joseph Barnes," Clive recited without any hesitation or thought. "Wouldn't that be great if I say that in your court case. I can just imagine... How strong will my testament against you be, if I can show that I've done so much research on you and the explosion that I know the names of all the people who are dead, because of you."

"Is there anything I can offer you to change your mind?" Hawkes questioned.

"Nothing, Hawkes," Clive shook his head, beginning to pace around the office. "Don't you see? I have achieved my goal."

"Have you now?"

"I have indeed. My goal was to bring you down. And here you are. About to be found guilty for manslaughter and corruption. By wrecking London and trampling through it, I made that happen," Clive explained, enjoying his triumph. "I wanted to break London. I wanted to break the hell hole that this country is because of people like you. You are going down, Bill Hawkes. That was my one and only ever goal. I regret that many bad things had to happen for me to do that. I'm well-aware that there is far more blood on my hands than yours, but I've taught everyone a lesson, which is more than you've ever done. The whole country now knows that you are evil, selfish and greedy. The whole country now knows that you are a corrupt man, Bill Hawkes. If you are brought down from your high horse, then I have been avenged, and have enough happiness through this achievement to last me the rest of my life-long sentence."

"Very well," Hawkes said and stood up and made his way for the door. "Oh, and by the way, I ought to tell you this, too."

Hawkes opened the door.

"Do you have to? I'm dying to get back to my cell," Clive wanted to laugh at his own joke.

"They're thinking of bringing back the death sentence, Mr Dove. Especially for you."

"Well, then, Mr Hawkes, I have one thing to say to you," Clive said, with no reaction to this news whatsoever.

"And that is?"

 _Goodness_ , thought Clive, _his eyes just gleamed. The bastard. He really thinks I will say nothing..._

"I look forward to seeing you in hell, Bill Hawkes."

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 **AN: So, yes, Crazy Clive! Cause, honestly, we all know he is completely and utterly insane, but that is why we love him.**

 **So, this idea has kind of been rattling around my head for a while. Plus, I really felt like Hawkes deserved some punishment for all he did, y'know?**

 **If you leave a review, I'll be really happy... :)**

 **Nikki~**


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